


Don't Become Some Background Noise

by Synekdokee



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Body Worship, Drug Use, Kinda, M/M, Michael has a sexy belly, Non-Penetrative Sex, Rutting, as in weed, belly worship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/pseuds/Synekdokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This isn’t about the sex, is it?” Michael asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Become Some Background Noise

**Author's Note:**

> It started with my own belly kink, and then it just wouldn't stop. And then some plot snuck in.
> 
> Title from Radio Ga Ga by Queen, as it was so geniusly used in Michael's character trailer.

The night started out mostly sober. Shitty noir films in Michael's living room with a few glasses of (admittedly good) scotch.

Trevor started to complain 20 minutes into the first movie. Why watch boring movies that didn't even have colour when you could go explore the world, wreak some havoc, and abuse substances?

No amount of wheedling would change Michael's stuck-up mind. Finally he gave an ultimatum. Trevor could either shut the fuck up, or he was welcome to leave. Alone.

With a groan Trevor slumped into the cushions, sitting morosely under the dimmed lights.

It didn't help that his go-to solution to boredom was sex. His hand found its way to his crotch almost absent-mindedly, rubbing his half-hard dick over his sweats.

Michael ignored him.

An hour into the torture Trevor started rummaging around in his pockets, pulling out a bag of weed and some paper. Pot was something he tended to avoid, out of personal preference, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He started rolling up a joint.

That got Michael's attention.

"No," he said, adamantly. "Not in my fucking house you don't."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "You're fine with robbing people, killing people and general screwing with people, but you draw the line at weed?"

"We all have our limits," Michael said snidely, turning back to face the screen.

Trevor lit up the joint regardless, intentionally blowing the smoke at Michael.

"What the fuck did I just say?" Michael snapped, making a grab at Trevor.

"Hey hey hey!" Trevor leaned back out of his reach. "What are you so hysterical about anyway? Scared you're gonna _relapse?"_

Michael made a disgusted face. "No. I'm scared the residential amphetamine-addict is going to react badly and murder me in my own living room!"

Trevor waved his arm dismissively.

"This is quality stuff. It's fi-ine,” he said, drawing the word out. “Mellows you out." He offered the joint to Michael. "Lord knows you need it."

Michael huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Go fuck yourself," he muttered. "I'm not putting that shit in my body even if you paid me."

Fifteen minutes of Trevor pushing every single "you're a chicken" button Michael had later, the latest joint was making its way from Michael's hand to Trevor's.

"Ahh, yeah, that _is_ nice," Michael sighed, melting into the sofa.

"Told ya," Trevor said, taking another drag. "You sure you don't wanna shotgun?"

"Fuck off," Michael replied, but without the usual bite.

"Ye ye ye ye," Trevor said, handing the joint back. His dick was still insistent, but he knew how to play Michael.

A few more rounds and Trevor sidled closer, hand high on Michael's thigh.

He took the joint from Michael's lips just as he was about to take a drag, and held it away.

"You want it, come get it," Trevor taunted, taking a long hit and blowing it out into Michael's irritated face.

On his second drag, Michael leaned closer with a grunt, sealing his lips over Trevor's and sucking in the air Trevor blew out.

Michael pulled back, moaning softly. Trevor's prick twitched eagerly, and he moved his hand to cup it through his trousers.

"I ain't fucking you," Michael said calmly. Trevor snorted.

"You mean you ain't fucking me the same way you ain’t smoking pot, or sucking it out of my mouth?"

Michael gave him a petulant look.

Trevor shrugged, settling back.

"Fine. Have it your way."

He pulled another drag of the joint, palming himself lazily. Michael stared at him with a suspicious look on his face. He gestured at the roll, but Trevor jerked his hand back, smirking shittily, before putting the joint to his lips again, sucking indulgently.

With a growl Michael crawled over him, mouth on Trevor's, sharing the hit with him.

Sensing an opportunity, Trevor grabbed Michael's shirt and yanked him down, making him lose his balance and crash awkwardly on Trevor.

"See?" Trevor said, grinning. "Right where I wanted you."

Michael scoffed and started struggling to get up, but Trevor lifted his thigh, wedging it between Michael’s and pressing up against Michael's crotch.

"F-fuck," Michael choked out, flopping back on Trevor's chest.

"That was the general idea," Trevor drawled.

“Ahh, fuck it,” Michael groaned, shifting his hips. He propped himself up on one elbow and grabbed the roll from Trevor’s fingers, moaning thickly as the smoke traveled through his airways.

“Shit,” he said, rolling his hips against Trevor’s.

“That’s it,” Trevor drawled, grabbing the joint and putting one hand on Michael’s side to urge him on as he started to move against Trevor.

It wasn’t dignified by any means. Michael was in a state of mixed mellowness and lust, grinding himself against the curve of Trevor’s hip. He brought his right leg up, nudging it between Trevor’s, offering a shallow friction that Trevor savoured, letting Michael do all the work as he rode Trevor.

With a low moan Michael curved his back, tilting his hips and rutting desperately against Trevor, panting hard. His forehead was pressed against Trevor’s chest, his breaths desperate hot puffs of air through the cotton of Trevor’s threadbare shirt.

“Jesus fuck, Trev,” Michael gasped, thrusting frantically. Trevor grabbed his neck firmly, thumbing the soft hairs there soothingly.

“Calm the fuck down, sugar,” Trevor said, putting pressure on Michael’s neck. Michael eased his pace, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm against Trevor. Every time Michael moved into him, his thigh rubbed over Trevor’s cock. It was frustrating, driving Trevor’s lust higher.

Michael’s hand was on Trevor’s hip for leverage, his large palm slipping beneath Trevor’s shirt, warm against his skin, blunt nails digging into his flesh.

The joint was burning out. Trevor dropped it in an ashtray on the coffee table, his free hand wandering Michael’s body. He groped him unabashedly, smoothing his palm down Michael’s clothed back, feeling out his sides - soft, but with the tell-tale hardness of muscle beneath. He reached down and trailed his hand over Michael’s ample bum, grabbing his ass and urging him on a little, lifting his hips to meet Michael’s lazy thrusts.

He settled his hand on Michael’s fleshy hip, enjoying the rhythm of his thrusts, the way his hips tilted, his spine curving, as he rutted against Trevor.

Michael was panting softly now, desperate little gasps and moans spilling out of his mouth and half-muffled into Trevor’s chest. Trevor took a twisted kind of pride in getting Michael so unwound, making his control slip.

“Come on, come on,” Trevor gritted out, tugging Michael closer. Michael braced one forearm on Trevor’s chest, groaning low as he arched his back.

“Fuck you,” Michael hissed, his cock a firm bulge against Trevor as he kept thrusting. “God, you’re such a fucking- ah!”

Trevor chuckled. “That’s it, baby. Just give it up to uncle Trevor.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael snapped, followed by a grunt. One arm slipped under Trevor’s shoulder, gripping it tight for leverage. The other squeezed his hipbone hard as Michael moved, rubbing his cock against Trevor desperately. It felt good, Michael’s heat and weight all over him, the rocking of his movements sparking Trevor’s own want.

Holding on to Michael’s side, Trevor felt his rhythm grow more erratic, the way his hips jerked in hungry thrusts, seeking out the friction. He lay quietly, languidly moving his hips to respond to Michael’s thrusts, his own cock straining in his sweats.

Eventually Michael gave out a low growl, gripping Trevor’s shoulder hard, grinding against him as he came, panting hard, his body going tense. With a grunt, and a twitch of his hips, Michael slumped across Trevor’s stomach, still moving shallowly against him, working himself through the aftershocks.

“Jesus,” Michael hissed, and then gave out a hungry moan, still clutching on to Trevor.

Trevor wasted no time sidling out from under Michael’s slack weight.

Michael barely complained when Trevor rolled him over on the sofa and climbed to straddle his hips. Quickly pulling down his sweatpants, just enough to free his aching cock, Trevor braced himself on the sofa on one arm, his right hand gripping his prick, stroking himself at a brisk pace.

He rucked up Michael’s shirt, revealing tanned skin and a dusting of dark hair.

“Look at that,” Trevor murmured slowly, stroking down Michael’s side.

“If you make another fat joke, I swear to god-“

“I want to come on your belly,” Trevor interrupted.

Michael stared at him. “Did you just-“ he stuttered. “What did you just- _What_?”

“Yeah,” Trevor groaned, and pushed his swollen dick against Michael’s stomach, the head leaving a slick trail of precome on the skin. He pressed his palm over his cock until it was trapped between his hand and Michael’s soft skin.

Michael’s skin was warm against his prick, his body soft and yielding to Trevor’s touches. Michael had always been a little soft around the edges, never weak or out of shape, but a little on the chubby side. The ten years had hardened him, his face squarer than Trevor remembered, his frame wider and solid, but the padding around his midsection was pleasantly familiar.

Michael was watching him, eyes heavy-lidded with post-orgasm laziness and the effects of the weed. His head was pillowed on his arm, propped on a sofa cushion. His mouth was parted, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It made Trevor want to crawl up, slip his cock inside Michael’s mouth.

He reigned himself in. One thing at a time, he told himself, and rubbed his dick against the softness of Michael’s belly, enjoying the friction as he set a nice rhythm for himself.

“I didn’t think you’d find that hot,” Michael said quietly, watching Trevor fuck his stomach. “Considering the relentless mockery, I mean.”

Trevor panted. “Are you going to start moping on me? _Now_?”

Michael laughed and shifted, on hand trailing up Trevor’s arm until it covered the tattoo there, thumb rubbing over the ink in circles. His hand rode the motion of Trevor rubbing his cock against Michael’s belly.

“Nah,” Michael drawled. “I just didn’t expect chubby-chasing to be your thing.”

“It isn’t,” Trevor growled irritably. “So I like the way you look. Isn’t that part of the whole “learn to act like a normal human being” shtick you’ve been trying to get me on board?”

Michael laughed. “Yeah, sure. Tummy-fucking. It’s what normal human beings do.”

“I’ll fuck your tits if you prefer,” Trevor snapped. “Now shut the fuck up and let me finish.”

Michael settled back with a smirk, dropping his hand to rest on his chest.

Trevor concentrated on chasing his orgasm, his eyes roaming over Michael’s body as he rubbed the flushed head of his cock against Michael’s skin. Michael was healthily tan, his body carrying a built thickness that told Trevor he hadn’t, in fact, spent most of the past decade just sulking in the sun. There was a familiar strength in him, even beneath the middle-aged flab.

Michael’s head was tilted back, his neck exposed. Trevor let his eyes trail across Michael’s collar bones, down his chest, until they snagged on the webbed scar on Michael’s sternum. Trevor pressed his palm on it, covering it whole. Michael’s heart was thrumming steadily beneath his hand, his chest rising and falling calmly.

Close to coming, Trevor ducked his head down, taking one of Michael’s nipples between his teeth and biting lightly. It drew a hiss from Michael, and a jerk of his hips, almost tipping Trevor forward. Rutting against Michael’s stomach, chasing his own orgasm, Trevor licked and sucked Michael’s sore nipple, the slight fat on his pectorals making it easier to draw the hardened nub between his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael panted, clutching hard at Trevor’s shoulders. “Keep this up and you’ll get me going again, age be damned.”

Trevor hummed, biting hard on Michael’s clavicle. “I know how to appreciate a good pair of organic tits,” he said, giving Michael’s left nipple one last lick.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Michael choked. Trevor gave a sharp laugh, straightening up and taking his dick in hand, stroking it quickly a few times until he was coming with a low groan, shooting over the skin of Michael’s belly.

With a shuddering moan, he fell down on his hands, braced above Michael who was looking up at him with a flushed face.

“Not bad, huh?”

Michael glared at him, squirming a little.

“Yeah, until you came all over me.” He made a useless effort at wiping Trevor’s come off with his shirt.“Actually, my shorts don’t feel that comfortable either.”

Trevor pushed himself off, looking oddly stung. “Fine,” he snapped. “Why don’t we agree that unless it involves booze and women who charge, you and I can’t spend more than five minutes in each other’s company before you get a fucking stick up your ass.”

Michael propped himself up on his elbows, staring as Trevor started tugging his sweats back up.

“What is your problem,” he asked, sounding irritated. “You’re so fucking sensitive these days it’s like I found myself another Amanda.”

“My _problem_ ,” Trevor snarled, pointing at Michael, “is that you are incapable of enjoying a single fucking thing in your life without putting on a big show about how underwhelmed you are. And I got a newsflash for you, sugartits, but I don’t take kindly to people calling my dick underwhelming!”

Michael sat up properly, laughing. It died down when he saw the thunderous expression on Trevor’s face.

“Hey,” he said soothingly, lifting his hands up. “I never said your dick is- oh for fuck’s sake, T this is ridiculous.”

“Well! If it’s so ridiculous then why bother, eh?”

“For crying out loud Trevor!” Michael shouted. He took a deep breath and tried again. “What, exactly, is the problem here, aside from me not enjoying my soggy underwear?”

Trevor ran a hand through his hair, looking haggard. He took a few pacing steps, whirling around to wag a finger at Michael like he wanted to say something, then turning away again and continuing his pacing. Michael sat quietly, amused.

Finally, Trevor stopped.

“I remember what you were like, back then,” he hissed. Michael groaned.

“Oh god, not this again.”

“You bet your sweet fucking ass it’s this again! You used to have drive, ambition, you had _goals_!” Trevor looked at him, face flushed.

“Now all you do is sit on your ass and whine about pissing your life down the drain without doing a goddamn thing to change any of it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Michael tried to say, but Trevor railroaded him.

“And then!” He raised his voice, waving his arms furiously, “then someone’s _considerate_ enough to _volunteer_ to get your rocks off, and all you have to say about it is “my underwear is dirty!”

Michael stared at him, mouth open.

“Ungrateful!” Trevor screamed, shaking his fists. “Fucking ungrateful!”

“This isn’t about the sex, is it?” Michael asked gently, recovering slowly.

“No, this isn't about the sex,” Trevor snapped, tone derisive. “This is about your inability to live your life without whining about every single fucking thing. It’s a serious fucking downer. Two weeks ago we pulled off one the most legendary robberies in the history of this country, and now you’re sitting here on your lazy ass watching movies in an alcoholic haze!”

Michael perched down on the armrest, running his hands over his face.

“Maybe you have a point,” he said. “Look, things haven’t been – I’m not gonna say easy, because that’d be a lie, but… Maybe they’ve been too easy. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to realize my life’s been an unholy, unhappy mess for a long time.”

Trevor was pulling a face at him, rolling his eyes, mockery practically oozing out of him..

“No, just hear me out,” Michael pleaded. Trevor wore an obstinate look on his face, but he stayed quiet.

“So then _you_ show up, right? And you start dragging up old shit and summoning ghosts and, you know, maybe there’s a spark there, that maybe I could have another taste of my youth when, for at least a few years, before things went to hell, I felt like I was actually _alive_.” He slumped down, hunching over the hollow ache in his chest.

“But it doesn’t work like that. You can’t just go _back_. You and I…” He looked at Trevor seriously.

“Whatever we had between us back then, you can’t just… We’re not 20 anymore.”

Trevor gave him a hard look. “So what? I’m not looking for a fucking wedding band here, Townley. I’m looking for a fucking running buddy. Someone I can trust.”

Michael gave a humourless laugh. “You gonna trust me?” He asked, but continued before Trevor could offer a response. “I can’t go back to that life. There was a reason I left, and just because the alternative didn’t work out any better, that doesn’t mean I can return to that. I ran out of steam and guts, T.” He looked at Trevor beseechingly.

Trevor gave a frustrated groan. “It doesn’t have to be like that. There’s no need why it should be. We’re rich enough to do whatever the fuck we please.”

Michael huffed. “Money ain’t a guarantee of happiness.”

“Well that’s my fucking point here,” Trevor insisted. “You’re gonna let your brain rot away like this? You’re better than that! Even after your fucking resurrection your old rep was enough to get people on board with working with you.” Trevor grabbed Michael by the shoulder, shaking him.

“You and I are fucking legends, you asswipe,” he said, with emphasis.

Michael looked up at him, face clearing.

“Yeah…” he said softly. “We are, aren’t we?” He laughed, shaking his head.

“See?!” Trevor crowed. “You can’t just throw that away.”

Michael hesitated. “I don’t want that lifestyle again, T. I can’t run anymore, not like that. But…”

“Buuuuut?” Trevor coaxed, motioning impatiently.

“Well, I mean… Franklin might occasionally need experienced advice. He’s a fresh face, he might need some old-timers to give him some street cred.”

Trevor grinned, shark-like. “Now that’s what I wanna hear! So, what, you want to be a consulting criminal?”

Michael shrugged. There was a new gleam in his eye. “Why the fuck not? Call it part-time retirement, eh?”

Trevor pumped his fist in the air, smiling gleefully. “I knew you were full of shit with that retirement crap. You ain’t ready to hang up that snooty sniper rifle of yours.”

Michael laughed, getting up to pour himself a drink. He slapped Trevor on the behind on his way past him, ignoring the answering leer.

“So.” Michael leaned against the booze cabinet, smiling filthily at Trevor. “Wanna get cleaned up and then maybe continue this discussion upstairs?”

“You gotta ask?” Trevor grabbed the bottle from Michael’s hand and headed upstairs, not pausing to wait and see whether he was following.

Energized, Michael followed him. Pausing to consider, he turned back around and returned to the living room, picked up the ashtray and sprinted back upstairs.


End file.
